<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Leather Gloves by devil_on_your_shoulder27384</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061879">Leather Gloves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_on_your_shoulder27384/pseuds/devil_on_your_shoulder27384'>devil_on_your_shoulder27384</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queer as Folk (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Glove Kink, Leather Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:20:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_on_your_shoulder27384/pseuds/devil_on_your_shoulder27384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cold weather causes certain ... wardrobe changes. Justin’s into it. </p><p>Set between season 3 and season 4</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Leather Gloves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck!”</p><p>On the couch, Justin sits up. “Everything okay over there?”</p><p>Brian’s glaring into the fridge. “We’re out of milk.”</p><p>“I’ll put it on the list,” Justin says, but Brian looks genuinely pissed. He’d been doing so well the past few weeks, too, smiling all the time and being sweet and attentive and giving Justin all the lazy summertime sex he could ever want. Fuck, the sex - I mean, Justin thinks, what else would we be doing with no jobs and no money and no car, at least this doesn’t come due at the end of the month - so good, a constant fixture of their days in the empty loft, fucking on every remaining piece of furniture in the living room, in the elevator, in the shower, against the outside wall of the building, once, when they were feeling particularly daring.</p><p>Justin reconsiders. “Actually,” he says, “let’s go get it now. We need food anyway, and shampoo, and condoms-”</p><p>Brian’s looking at him with a vague mix of annoyance and utter adoration. “I keep forgetting you’re a housewife now.”</p><p>Justin jumps off the sofa and bumps Brian’s shoulder as he passes him. “House<em>boy</em>. Same prefix, very different connotation.”</p><p>He hears Brian laugh behind him and turns. God, he thinks, he’s so beautiful. Brian isn’t exactly his usual well-manicured self right now, stubbled with his hair overgrown in sweats and a black wifebeater. He looks like sex, which, okay, Brian always looks like sex, but now he looks like <em>their</em> sex. Dirty and rough around the edges and perfect in his imperfectness. Justin walks back over and kisses Brian on the cheek, then tells him to put some real clothes on because it’s cold outside, which it is. Brian’s an obligatory smartass about that, but he still goes and gets his coat and gloves and scarf.</p><p>They walk to the corner store, not holding hands but shoulder-to-shoulder. Brian takes the kerb side of the sidewalk, like a true gentleman. Justin holds back on laughing when he’s reminded, absurdly, of the training prior to a cousin’s (ha) coming-out party.</p><p>Brian fills a basket with fancy condoms they can’t really afford and milk and wholemeal bread and beer that they mostly can. He pays with his basic AmEx, the only card that’s not maxed out by now. Neither of them mentions the bills they have or the money they don’t on the walk home.</p><p>They come through the loft door, bags on their arms. Justin studies Brian as he sorts through the groceries, nimble fingers encased in supple black leather that moves and flexes on his hands.</p><p>I want that in me, Justin thinks. It’s not an unusual thought to have while looking at Brian, for sure. But there’s just something about Brian now in his long coat, wrapped up in a scarf, all that power and rage bound in a designer straitjacket, that makes him hard in a way he hasn’t felt in a little while, not since the last time Brian tied him up and spanked him while he came so hard he sobbed. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. But still, Justin thinks. His <em>hands</em>.</p><p>Justin crosses the kitchen and presses a line of kisses on Brian’s throat. Brian grins at him and moves lithely until they’re tangled together, kissing, hot, wet, fucking fantastic. Justin slides to his knees and takes the zipper of Brian’s pants down with his teeth.</p><p>“Fuck,” Brian says, and slides a hand, still gloved, into Justin’s hair. Justin looks up at him, winks, and then slowly, slowly takes him all the way in, adding just the occasional scrape with his teeth to keep things interesting.</p><p>Justin knows he’s good at this. Better than good, if he does say so himself, ask anyone lucky enough to have the requisite experience. But the way Brian reacts when he blows him is what makes it so hot, like he can’t even keep anything inside, it’s so good.</p><p>Brian grabs a handful of his hair and pulls, so Justin moans around his dick. He thinks, as he pulls back and laps primly at the head, as Brian whines and groans hotly above him, about their first night back together after Ethan. Brian had paused the fourth pounding he’d been giving him in as many hours to brush a few strands out of Justin’s eyes and murmur, “I like it long like this,” kissing him gently, maybe reverently, on the mouth, before going right back to fucking him within an inch of his life.</p><p>You love me, Justin thinks, and he bites just hard enough to make Brian a little bit afraid. The hand in his hair tightens almost imperceptibly, then relaxes as he pulls back. Justin looks up and sees Brian staring down with something like worship in his eyes.</p><p>Justin watches his face when he comes. It’s beautiful, like it always is. He puts a hand up on Bryan’s stomach and Brian grabs it and holds it to himself as his abdomen clenches under his shirt.</p><p>Justin stands, licking a stray drop of cum from the corner of his mouth. Brian’s staring at him with half-lidded eyes. He yanks Justin in for a rough sweet kiss, and Justin lets himself get caught up in the it. He moans into Brian’s mouth. Brian laughs.</p><p>He pulls Justin’s shirt over his head and shrugs out of his own coat. But then he starts to tug at the fingers of the gloves, and-</p><p>Justin touches his hands. “Can you- keep them on?” he says, fighting a blush. Brian chuckles and gives him a knowing look.</p><p>“You’ve seen these before,” Brian says, shirtless now, walking Justin over to one of the big pillow things where the couch used to be and pushing him backwards onto it. Brian strips off his pants - no underwear, another regular feature of this strange heavenly summer, and pounces on top of him. He’s naked except for the gloves, which should look silly, but it’s Brian, so instead it looks like filthy kinky sex. Justin bites his lip and settles back. He can’t wait.</p><p>“I think I might have been scared to ask,” Justin says. “Before.”</p><p>Brian gives him a small sad glance. Justin wants to kick himself.</p><p>“But not anymore,” he continues. “Clearly.”</p><p>Brian smiles. It’s sweet and shy, and it makes Justin melt. “Partners,” Brian says. “Changes things.”</p><p>Justin smiles back. “Yeah.”</p><p>Brian snares a tube of KY from the floor next to them. He squeezes a long thin line onto the gloved fingers of his right hand.</p><p>Despite himself, Justin quivers.</p><p>Brian gives him a sharkish smile and rubs his fingertips together, spreading the lube around. We have no money, Justin thinks, and no jobs, and Brian Kinney is ruining a pair of designer gloves because it turns me on. Jesus.</p><p>Brian starts with one finger. The leather is cool on the outside, but with an underlying warmth from Brian’s hands. The seams are on the outsides of the fingers, and they form little ridges that make the sensation something utterly new. </p><p>Two fingers, now, Brian pumping them in and out of him, once in a while sliding up just right on <em>that</em> spot, making Justin’s vision blur. Brian’s watching him with intense focus as he fingerfucks him. Justin feels stripped down under the hungry stare of those dark eyes, his face and body giving away everything he feels.</p><p>“You want another?” Brian murmurs, and Justin feels no shame or shyness at all when he gasps, “Yes,” and then, “please-” Brian grins down at him and laughs lowly. </p><p>He adds the third finger, and now he’s really feeling it. Three of Brian’s fingers is a fair amount to take by any means, but with the added thickness of the leather, it’s even more. Justin finds his breath coming in uneven gasps as Brian fingers him expertly, fluttering his digits up and down inside him.</p><p>Brian’s hard. He starts to grind down on him, breathing faster on Justin’s neck. “I’m never fucking washing these gloves,” he growls, and it’s so <em>dirty</em>, so forbidden and deliciously hot. Justin writhes and whimpers, which only seems to spur Brian on; he crooks his fingers with an accuracy that only comes from years of practice, and Justin has to try and get those magic fingers deeper, trying desperately to fuck himself harder on them.</p><p>Brian grins. He takes his other hand, still gloved, and spreads it across Justin’s chest, pinning him down, and then he pulls his fingers nearly all the way out and jams them all back in right against his prostate. It lights up the whole inside of his body. Justin twists and bucks frantically, needing more, but Brian’s hand is holding him fast.</p><p>Then Brian leans down and kisses him, hard, and twists his fingers inside Justin, each seam-ridge grazing one by one over his prostate like a string of firecrackers. Justin needs to scream, but Brian swallows it, swallows all his moans and pleas as he comes sharply, with no warning at all, an orgasm like a concentrated heavy ball of pleasure in the pit of his stomach. It hurts nearly as much as it’s good, better than good. Brian soothes him through it, milking his prostate with those cruelly skilled fingers, until he’s done, pleading for mercy.</p><p>“Shit, Sunshine,” Brian breathes. He’s stroking himself with the gloved fingers that had just been rubbing Justin into madness. “Jesus, that was hot.” He closes his eyes and comes, pearly cum splattering on Justin’s quivering stomach, mixing with Justin’s own. Justin tries to make words to voice his agreement and fails miserably.</p><p>Brian unsnaps the gloves and peels them off, slowly, dropping them on the floor next to them. He lies down on top of Justin and starts kissing his neck and shoulders, softly, almost mindlessly. Justin strokes his back and lets the sublime contentedness of the moment consume him.</p><p>“So,” Brian says, a minute or so later. “Leather. That a new thing?” </p><p>Justin smiles and stretches under him. It’s a you thing, he thinks. “Guess so.”</p><p>Brian smiles back. It’s sweet, so sweet it melts Justin’s soul. “Maybe I should find my leather pants,” he says, smile turning wicked when Justin gulps.</p><p>He kisses Justin on the mouth. “Not a very productive way to pass the time, I guess,” he says, just a touch of the old darkness coming into his voice.</p><p>Justin kisses him. “Fuck productive,” he says. “We saved the world, we deserve some time off.”</p><p>Brian smiles at him with that sweet open devoted look again. “Sunshine,” he murmurs, “you always know just what to say.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>